A job. Someone else needs her back on her feet, all two of them.

“I’m an engineer!” Well, now she looks angry AND bewildered. Is that progress? “Sorry, sorry, that … that explains nothing. I’m supposed to help fix you.”

“Fix?” You can see her immediate line of thought jumps to “please spay and neuter your pets!”

“Well, we already had an automech come by. I mean, you’ve noticed your arms and legs aren’t exactly meat anymore, right?” Drawing attention to it seems like a gamble, but it’s the play you’re using.

“I … wasn’t going to say anything.” Ah, there’s the kind of limitation Mariah was talking about. Bedelia stalls with an almost-audible clunk while answering, clearly adjusting the fact that you’re not supposed to point out she’s an android. Better course-correct on that fast, buddy.

“Yeah, she installed the basics, but we don’t have any actual forearms or calves. I have know-how about machines, but not prosthesis. She knows about prosthesis, but not practical engineering. And you know about crime, which we don’t. Not serious crime, anyway.”

“… so I’m supposed to help you steal me new arms?” she says slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” you defend sincerely. You’re heinously nervous about the whole plan; it’s easy to be honest about that part. “Oh, and also legs. Well, arm and leg. We have parts being … we’ll call it set aside? They’re for your right side. The left side was too damaged to replace with a scrap base, though, so that’s what we need to get.”

“I talk you through this, I get half of my limbs back,” she reasons out. “What do you get out of this?”

“Do a pretty girl a favor?” The answer gives her a little pause, but she seems amused by it. If unconvinced. “Okay, I’m being paid. Someone with a lot of money wants you back on your feet. Same with the doc. I mean, we’re all skilled laborers, right?”

“Too true,” she agrees after a more natural, considered pause. “I’m in. Not being mobile is going to get old fast, anyway. No B&E work?”

“I mean, I’ve done my share of keysmithing, but I don’t know how to cover my tracks. And I don’t know much about security systems.”

“Right, but if I said you need a spike cutter …”

“I’d ask plasma or laser, yeah,” you finish, just happy to be able to contribute.

“Okay …” she murmurs, more to herself than you. “Okay, I can … I can work with this. I’m going give you – you’re going to get something to take notes with. Guess I’m stuck dictating until we pull this off. None of it should be too exotic, but let me know if you don’t have it, we’ll substitute. Do you have a place in mind?”

“Yeah, there’s an android boutique near the city line. It’s the farthest one away from anything. All the other shops I can think of are grouped too close or are too near a dispersal station.” You pull your computer around to show her what you’re talking about, which she nods to steadily.

“You might just not be hopeless after all!” she hums after getting you to pull up a map and circle around it in picture. “It helps that their security’s trash. Water level’s too high there for basements and I don’t see a dedicated generator.”

“It’s some trophy husband’s hobby shop. I don’t think the guy’s ever had to work a day in his life.” Bedelia glances over at you inquisitively. “… he also doesn’t call back after interviews.”

“Oh, then we should **** him while we’re at it!” she intones in an overly-serious voice, grinning a bit. “You ready to get in trouble?” Her teasing grin falters, then she frowns. “In all the dismemberment, I didn’t get your name.”

“Bradbury. But it’s not my real name,” you find yourself answering, not sure why you pointed it out.

“Bedelia. And it’s not my real name, either.” That’s true. “Listen very carefully, Brad: if you follow my lead, we will make it out of this with no one knowing we were even there. If you don’t, I’m going to stay quadriplegic and you’re going to jail. I lead, you follow. Deal?” You nod, pulling your computer back to your lap to take her notes.